


Escape to the Summer Lands

by GoblinCatKC



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Dark Fantasy, Elf Sportacus (LazyTown), Fae Robbie Rotten, M/M, Mild Horror, Seelie Court
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-11-15 13:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11232291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoblinCatKC/pseuds/GoblinCatKC
Summary: Robbie had not always lived in Lazy Town, although chronic insomnia left him almost incapable of remembering, and Stephanie was certainly more than she seemed. When Stephanie and Sportacus hatched their escape plan, they refused to leave Robbie behind. And what they escaped refused to be left behind as well.





	1. The Road Not Taken

**Author's Note:**

> Goblins. Yes, straight up front, goblins, but this take will be a little different from traditional folklore. And by the time I'm done with them, you probably won't worry about the character I'm about to brutalize because they'll be all bent out of shape.

Robbie drowsed on the park bench, his eyes half-closed, watching the pale light sparkle through the maple leaves. Five days of insomnia lay heavily on him, bringing him to the very edge of sleep, but the children's laughter and the bouncing soccer ball kept yanking him back. Groaning deep inside himself, Robbie turned over once, thinking that if he could just find the perfect position, the right way to lay his hand across his eyes, to pillow his head in the crook of his arm, maybe he could drift off.

Instead, between his fingers, he spotted Mayor Meanswell's door opening and the pink haired girl came out with a little drawstring sports bag over her shoulder. She looked both ways, then crossed the street and joined the other children, giving the soccer ball a few tentative kicks.

Robbie's eyes started to close again. The children had quieted down, talking about a soccer game on one of Pixel's computers. Maybe they would go in...leave him alone in the park with just the cold wind and the shadows falling over his face.

"Hey, Sportacus!"

Now Robbie growled and turned over again, kicking the end of the bench. Sure enough, a blue blur flipped by, cartwheeling past on one hand. Sportacus landed with a jaunty salute to Stephanie, going down on one knee before her.

"Hey! Are you ready to learn the new moves today?"

"You bet. I even got my leg warmers in my bag." She hefted the small tote that clearly held her dance shoes.

"Wonderful!" he said. "And then you can show me how to tap dance?"

"We can start," she said, nodding seriously. "But it takes a lot of practice."

"I'm willing to try," he said.

"Stephanie!"

She looked over her shoulder at Ziggy, who ran up and had to catch his breath before asking. "You aren't playing with us today?"

"Not right now," she said. "Sportacus and I are going to practice dancing. But then we're gonna come back and show you what we learned, okay?"

Ziggy grinned. "Like a concert?"

"It's called a dance recital," she said, shrugging, "but yeah. Will you wait and see what we come up with? I want it to be a surprise."

"Sure," he said, and he headed back to the rest of the children with wide eyes and breathlessly told them what Stephanie and Sportacus were planning, and started to try his own dance steps.

Waving to her friends, Stephanie walked beside Sportacus, the bag over her shoulder, as they crossed the park. When they reached the wall, however, Stephanie noticed Robbie trying to nap on the bench. When he scowled at her, she laughed and looked up at Sportacus.

"How about it?" she asked. "I know Robbie's a good tap dancer. He should practice with us."

Robbie growled, throwing his arm over his eyes. "That sound suspiciously un-lazy."

"Well," Sportacus said. "It is like exercising."

"I knew it!" Robbie sat upright, pointing at them as if they had insulted him. "You won't get me doing anything harder than trying to sleep on this bench."

"Hmm," she said. "That sounds like you're trying to do something even more impossible, then."

He blinked. Then winced. Then turned his head and felt his shoulders hunching up. Did everyone know that he couldn't sleep ever? Was it a big joke among the children?

"You might be able to sleep after moving around a little," Stephanie said. "And besides, you're a really good tap dancer. Won't you come with us?"

"Please?" Sportacus said, touching his shoulder. "I would really like you to join us."

That...actually sounded sincere. Robbie bit his lip. Sportacus didn't lie. Sportacus was a hero.

"...you mean it?" He glanced at them sideways. "You're not just...saying that?"

"Robbie, you're my friend." She extended her hand, holding it up in invitation. "I want you to come."

"Really?" At her nod, he smiled and put his hand in hers. "Then I, of course, accept."

Holding his hand in return, she drew him along after Sportacus. As they crossed the street, Bessie waved to them from her lawn, dropping the cucumbers from her eyes as she sat up.

"Where are you off to?" she called. "School's out and the children are playing in the park."

"We're going to go practice a dance recital," Sportacus said. "The show has to be a surprise, though, so we're going down to the board walk on the beach."

"Oh," Bessie said. She lay down again and replaced the cucumbers. "Be safe out there."

"Yes, ma'am," Stephanie said.

Robbie frowned, but Stephanie tugged him along before he could say anything, and she set such a pace that only his long legs allowed him to keep up with her and Sportacus. When they were halfway across the next street, passing by a curving yellow house, he bent low so that only she could hear.

"Um, boardwalks aren't so good for tap," he whispered.

To his surprise, she smiled at him with so much apparent pleasure that he nearly fell over.

"I'm so proud of you," she said.

"I...um...what?" he said, standing straight. He almost stopped, but her grip turned hard and forced him to keep walking.

"You come up with so many interesting inventions," she said. "And you aren't mean. And just now, when you could have embarrassed me, you were so polite and discreet."

So strange, to hear a word like discreet come out of a little girl. But he beamed at the praise and turned away, not sure how to react. Polite and smart were not words people used to describe him. Everyone called him a liar and rude, too stupid to finish school.

"And after all this time, too." She shook her head. "I'm just really proud of you."

Sportacus came around his other side, putting a hand on the small of his back.

"We both are," he said, with the sincere look he usually reserved for telling children not to tattle or hurt each other. "What you managed to do here is nothing short of amazing."

"Well," he said, flustered. "It's just a little engineering, a little magic here and there."

"It's more than that," Sportacus whispered. "I...well. Later."

Robbie wasn't sure what to make of that, but Sportacus shook his head and focused back on the task at hand.

They crossed the last street. Before them lay the path to the beach. He could even hear the waves lapping at the rocks, catch the fresh scent of cold stone and clean water. Light reflected off the ocean, momentarily dazzling him.

And then Sportacus and Stephanie took a hard left turn along the sidewalk, taking Robbie not towards the path but to the road that led into the fields.

He blinked. And followed their insistent guidance, their quickening pace and the intent stares at the way ahead. He glanced over his shoulder and gasped.

Like a mirage, three flickering images of Stephanie, Sportacus and himself kept walking toward the beach. But unlike themselves, the shadowy white reflections went slowly, talking with each other. The fake Robbie waved his hands as he told what must have been a great joke since the fake Sportacus laughed and fake Stephanie showed off a dance step.

Robbie looked forward again. Was he dreaming? Had he really fallen asleep? He didn't think this was a nightmare—he was with his friends, after all. Stephanie gave his hand a silent, reassuring squeeze and Sportacus put his arm around Robbie's shoulder, moving him along but not pushing, not shoving. They were taking him down the fourth road, and they were trusting him to trust them.

Four roads led out of Lazytown—one to the beach, one to the grove, one into the distance that faded with the miles, and one that just...stopped. It made no sense. The road simply stopped in the middle of a grassy field, as if someone had just decided that the rest of the world could take care of it itself and didn't need to be bothered with.

Pressure began to build in his head. He felt like he was walking underwater and going deeper. He didn't know when it had started, but he blinked several times and made a tiny sound of discomfort, and he felt Sportacus walk closer to him, putting Robbie's arm over his shoulder. The light overhead became blinding, like the sun was growing more intense with each step.

"It's going to be okay," Sportacus said softly. "I won't let anything hurt you."

Robbie had never been down this path before. At least, he knew he hadn't been this way before. But as they walked, he recognized a small boulder that looked like a fat mushroom, saw the scarecrow on a tilted pole, its burlap face blank and staring at nothing. He somehow knew that the back of it would have wide, ugly stitching, and when he glanced back at it, he saw that he was right.

The grass around them shimmered like heat waves. He felt Stephanie stumble and start to fall, and he held her hand tightly and pulled up, helping her catch herself. She put both hands around his arm after that, leaning on him as they both leaned on Sportacus.

They were halfway down the road when a siren blared in the distance. It wailed in anger, announcing the dark storm clouds now growing over Lazytown.

"That's it," Stephanie whispered. "She knows."

"The mirage must have touched the water," Sportacus said, half in apology. "I'd hoped it would last longer."

"It lasted long enough," she said. "I still have the bag."

Robbie didn't know how she could have been carrying anything, not with the air so hot and heavy. But she managed to pull open the drawstring and slide in one hand, pulling out a dance shoe that she dropped behind themselves. There was a wooden snapping behind them that sent shivers up Robbie's back, and he was too afraid to turn around, simply holding Stephanie's hand a little tighter. If she was calm, then he would try not to panic.

"When should I drop the next one?" she asked.

"Not yet," Sportacus said. "A few more steps. Just a little further."

To Robbie's eyes, the end of the road seemed miles away, but it was really only the distance from the town to his lair. He could have run that distance, but now he wondered if he could drag his feet that far.

"I _have_ been this way before," he whispered. "I remember it being this hot."

"You must have been awake," Stephanie moaned. "I thought I fell asleep in the cab."

Something rumbled behind them. The siren was coming closer. Robbie clenched Sportacus' hand, leaning into his hold, and he held Stephanie closer to his side.

"Now," Sportacus said. "Drop the next shoe."

There was a flurry of movement, and then Stephanie opened the bag with a grunt of effort.

Robbie cracked his eye open. Between the haze of heat and light, he saw dark shapes whipping in the air, twisting and coiling like snakes before suddenly growing hard and shooting out spines. A forest of thorns sprouted behind them, a momentary comfort before he saw the violent shower of chips and pieces behind it. Something was chewing through.

Ahead was the end of the road, and the blinding light cracked in the middle like a door broken open. They only had to step across, but pushing through the last few feet felt like they were slogging over melting pavement.

Memories blossomed in Robbie's mind, the bad dreams he'd he'd tried to forget—warm summer winds and the scent of roses, crickets at twilight—the clawed hands dragging him away from home.

"You can't stop her," Robbie suddenly said. "She's too fast."

"We've slowed her down," Sportacus said.

"She's strong."

"My magic's stronger," Stephanie said.

"She's had...years..." Robbie choked. "So many years to plan..."

With a great amount of effort, Stephanie lifted her head.

"What did you do?" she asked. "Before. When you tried?"

"I..." Robbie shook his head once. "I don't remember. She won't let me remember."

"She cursed your sleep," Stephanie said. "Took most of it away and left you just enough to survive. Robbie...do you remember what you are?"

"...no," he whispered, but not because he didn't remember. He simply didn't want to say.

"Robbie, do you remember what you are?"

Now Stephanie's voice grew harder, colder, like the voice of someone who should have been taller and far more powerful than anything behind them.

"You know me, don't you?"

That stopped both Sportacus and Robbie in their tracks. Sportacus gave her a look, glancing once at the crashing, splintering thorns behind them. Robbie, instead, fell to his knees, too weak to move on his own.

"Don't make me..."

"Answer me. Do you know me?"

"Pink girl..."

"Do." She stepped closer, one hand on his shoulder, the other forcing his head up. "You. Know. Me?"

This close to the crack, she was changing. Her face looked as if it was carved out of molten light. Her pink hair shimmered like the mirage, looking less like cotton candy and more like the infinite shades of a sunrise. Sunlight sparkled around her head like a crown.

"My queen," he whispered. "I didn't know it was you."

The thorns behind them cracked open, and with them went the illusion. The clouds melted and the blue sky faded so that the ceiling was dark stone and all the stars had merely been crystals embedded in the surface. The ocean waves became the splashing of a cavern lake, and the wind nothing more than the cold shuddering of the earth.

Only because Robbie had seen Bessie properly before did he recognize her now. Her blue hair was no longer up but in long straggles around her shoulders, and her red dress was the blood of whatever child she'd eaten last, the dark stains covering skin so white that it could only survive underground. She loomed over them like a giant, but Stephanie's magic had done more than slow her down. Bessie panted for breath, down on one knee.

"You can't have them," Sportacus said, stepping in front of Robbie and Stephanie. "You hear me? You can't—"

"My children need light," Bessie said, and her exhausted body bent forward like a puppet, its strings sagging. "You can't take light away from my poor children."

"Besyrwan!" he yelled at her. "Leave!"

She rocked backward, her head snapping as if it might come off altogether. Her real name, Robbie realized, her goblin name thrown at her like a weapon. He'd never been armed with her real name. He wondered how Sportacus had found it. She stumbled, and for a moment Robbie thought that might do it.

But not in here in her place of power. Like a spider at the center of her web, she stood straight again. Filled with her own sense of triumph, she put one hand down, then another, her arms grotesquely long enough to walk on, her mouth filling with fangs as her illusions faded, revealing her real body.

Sportacus stiffened, hands up, ready to fight back, but he looked increasingly small as Bessie simply grew and grew and grew, her spindly arms and legs spreading out insect-like, segmented and long, letting her tower over them. Forgotten, her prisoners knelt together, too weary to stand, to cross even the last steps to wherever the crack in the cave led.

"Pink girl," Robbie whispered, "please...help me hold my hand up."

"I...I'll try."

Almost a sin to ask the queen to do anything, and certainly an obscenity for her to touch him, but even knowing what he was, she held his wrist with both hands, lifting his arm with the last of her strength.

"I do remember what I am," he admitted. "Please don't look."

She turned her head, so he didn't see her watching from the corner of her eye as fine silk unfurled like white ribbon, spooling over the ground where Bessie stood. More silk landed on Bessie's arms and feet, and when she tried to shake the strands off, they instead tangled and stuck to the rest looped on the ground. The more she fought, the more she trapped herself, and Sportacus jumped out of the way as Bessie toppled over.

Already the silk was beginning to tear and fray. Knowing she wouldn't stay ensnared for long, Sportacus grabbed Stephanie by the waist, hauling her along like a sack. He bent and put an arm under Robbie, forcing him up on his feet. Robbie held onto his arm, but he was facing the wrong way, perfect to keep Bessie down but impossible, he thought, to make it any further.

"I can't carry you," Sportacus said. "And I won't leave you behind, so you have to walk at least a little."

"Take the queen," Robbie said, adding another layer of silk, but he was out of practice and the silk was already running out.

"I'd be devastated if I left you behind," Sportacus said, and he smiled despite the pressure and heat and light coming from the cave entrance. "You wouldn't hurt me like that, would you?"

With a small, self-conscious laugh despite the exhaustion, Robbie found that he could walk after all, if he leaned most of his weight on Sportacus.

The thorns were collapsing to dust. The last sight Robbie had of Lazytown was of Bessie laying on her side, cursing and screaming, and the handful of her children standing on the road, wary of the white silk. As elongated as their mother, they looked like proper goblin children, and yet he recognized each of them as they waved goodbye, heard Trixie's voice coming out of a monster's mouth that she would always be Stephanie's friend, heard Ziggy asking what about the dance.

And then Robbie was falling backward into light and, for the first time in five days, he fell into a deep sleep.


	2. Homecomings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watercolor art by H0w_d0_y0u_d0_fell0w_kids

Dreams of the moon growing like a pirate ship floating on the water, of stars shrinking into dewdrops, of blades of grass rising as tall as a forest... Robbie lingered in strange illusions and visions, watching an imaginary world fill the air, and if he paid just enough attention, he could piece together how they worked, how their magic and gears and internal parts fit. Like a spider's web, he saw how every strand twisted and knotted together—

Saw a huge goblin hand claw through the web toward his face.

He sat upright, gasping, hands up against the goblin...that wasn't there. After several seconds and with nothing scratching at his eyes, he slowly lowered his hands, finding himself in a bed as wide as it was long, plush with a dozen pillows behind him. Sunlight poured across the blanket, and through the window he saw blue skies and white clouds that rolled and stretched across the sun. Birds sang in the branches swaying against the windowsill, and the breeze—he breathed in with a deep sigh.

Summer. Real summer.

The room around him was made of wood, polished but naturally curved and knotted, and ended with leafy vines and flowers. The window held no glass, only a shimmer to show the magic holding out inclement weather. And the rug was moss, thick moss fed by the spray of water trickling from the window into a small pool that likewise trickled out again at the door. A fey home.

Hushed voices murmured from the other room, indistinct and low.

Robbie gathered the blanket up against himself, noticing now that he'd been undressed. And he didn't hear Sportacus. Where was he? Had he been caught again?

No...he shook his head once, slowly. No, this didn't feel like a trap. The air felt real, not that fake and bent world of Lazytown. In confusion, he ran his hand through his hair.

He stopped. Afraid he'd imagined that, he ran his hand through his hair again. And gave a tiny, startled laugh when he felt how soft it was, how it spread between his fingers like anyone else's.

At his laugh, the voices stopped. Quick steps came and threw open the door.

"He's awake!" The dark haired man, wearing a dark one-piece that covered him to his neck, laughed and dove across the bed, catching Robbie up in his arms. "Oh, you're awake, you're awake, you're finally awake!"

"Don't smother him," called someone from the kitchen, coming more slowly. "He's probably confused."

"Are you confused?" the man asked, leaning back to stare in Robbie's eyes. "You must be—it's all been such a shock for you. Oh, you're finally awake!"

Suffering another hug, Robbie put his arms around him, then held him in return. The feel of his body was familiar, strong and lean and a scent of grass after a storm—

"Glanni," he whispered. "I know you."

With a delighted gasp, his cousin sat back and called over his shoulder. "He remembers! He remembers me!"

"Quit yelling, I'm right here."

In gold and brown hues, a stranger walked in, his floppy hat doing nothing to hide the outline of his ear's elfin tips. He looked so much like Sportacus that Robbie blinked and rubbed his eyes.

"Are you...?" Robbie started.

"No, I just look a lot like my brother," the man said. "He'll be back soon. I'm Iþrottaalfurinn. But you can just call me Ithrot."

"He's an elf," Glanni said. "I mean, he's one of those elves with the funny little crystals. Now Robbie, do you remember what happened to you?"

"I remember walking down the road with Sportacus and the pink—I mean, the queen. We were running away from that...thing."

"That 'thing'," Iþrottaalfurinn said, "was Besyrwan, a nasty goblin brood queen. She had you and Queen Stephania hostage for years. We only just now had the chance to bring you two out."

"You mean in Lazytown," Robbie said. "Then...was any of that real?"

"The children are real," Iþrottaalfurinn said, "but they're goblins, too. The rest of it was a spell, stealing your magic so she could light her cave and make it seem like a little town."

"That's why you're so exhausted," Glanni said, running his thumb under Robbie's eyes. "Shadows like charcoal smudges. And your silk...it's so weak. You need to rest and get better."

"My...silk?" Robbie brought his hand up and winced as a little silk gathered in his palm.

"See?" Glanni said. "It's so threadbare. Sportacus said you didn't ever get much sleep."

"Where is Sportacus?" Robbie asked. "And the...well, I guess the queen is back in her palace. But Sportacus—"

"My brother is still at the palace," Iþrottaalfurinn said. "He's needed there. Besyrwan broke several crimes and treaties, and your queen will want reparations and punishment. She also needs rest, even if she wasn't hurt as badly as you were."

"I was hurt?" Robbie asked.

"You certainly didn't sleep well," Iþrottaalfurinn said. "But more than that. You were her prisoner for so long, Sportacus said her magic had begun to warp you. He says we didn't see the worst of it—that it vanished as soon as you fell back into the summer lands, but you had started to change physically. It will take time for you to fully heal."

At Robbie's fallen look, Iþrottaalfurinn smiled and put his hand on his shoulder, squeezing once.

"Don't worry, you're safe here, and we're not going anywhere. And my brother said he'll be coming by soon, once we send word that you're awake again."

"Oh, good," Robbie said, accepting Glanni's hug again. "Um...I don't really remember this place, though."

"Ah!" Glanni sat straight, turned to Iþrottaalfurinn, then smiled self-consciously and put his hands in his lap. "Well, I suppose...I mean, you wouldn't have known, since we didn't see each other for awhile...and I guess it isn't a secret, but...well, I mean, even though he's an elf and I'm..."

"This tree is our home," Iþrottaalfurinn said, putting emphasis on 'our'. "I also brought your cousin out of the goblin caves ages ago, but when we got back, I found out too late that she'd stolen you as well. I've been taking care of Glanni ever since."

"Who's taking care of who?" Glanni snapped.

"Well, maybe if you'd explain faster," Iþrottaalfurinn said, "then you'd get to tell it your way."

A small laugh escaped Robbie, who tried to hide behind his hand when Glanni glared at him. But his laughter wouldn't stop bubbling out of him, and he grabbed Glanni into his own hug, feeling more comfortable and at ease than he remembered in a long, long time.

Days passed. Then a week, two weeks, three. It wouldn't have bothered Robbie so much if they hadn't told him that Sportacus had promised to visit. A paper airplane came, addressed to all three of them, apologizing and saying there were serious discussions going on in the court that the queen demanded he attend, and that Sportacus would come as soon as he could.

Robbie didn't notice much of the time passing by, spending most of his days asleep. Glanni brought him cupcakes and tea cakes and lemonade and other sweet things, ignoring how Iþrottaalfurinn insisted that he needed sportscandy instead. On the rare times that Robbie woke up with an apple or broccoli on the pillow beside him, that apple and broccoli wound up flying out the window.

His reflection took time to grow used to. His face had lost some of the plasticity it had absorbed from the goblin queen's lair. He'd touch his face and grasp at the empty space where skin and bone used to be, the jutting chin, the too prominent cheek bones. Sometimes his whole body felt like one open wound, and he would study himself in the mirror, trying to get used to what had once been so familiar.

Finally he remembered how to make his own clothing, spinning silk in different colors and patterns. He had to change several times before Glanni approved, saying that long stripes were no longer in fashion and that the seams and lining could be orange, but the rest of it had best be done in shades of purple. And that the vest could stay but that the pants had to be a proper length at his waist—and don't ask where he'd put the first try, since Glanni had burnt them and swept out the ashes already.

Glanni seemed particularly anxious on the day that Robbie spun his final piece, the vest that buttoned neatly up the front. Glanni fussed and adjusted the edges of his outfit until it was just right, or rather until Robbie finally sighed and grabbed his cousin's shoulders, holding him at arm's length.

"It's fine," Robbie said through gritted teeth. "It looks good. You know I wouldn't go out looking bad."

"Because I won't let you," Glanni insisted. "And it has to be good if—"

There was a brass blare from outside, at a distance so that Robbie wasn't sure if he had heard it or not. But then Glanni gasped and half-turned, and in the kitchen, Ithro looked up over his coffee cup with wide eyes.

"They're early," Iþrottaalfurinn breathed.

"He said not until tomorrow," Glanni almost wailed.

The crunching of leaves and stones came toward their door, and Glanni gave Robbie a last look before sighing that it would have to do and hurrying him out of the bedroom, through the kitchen and out the door.

Robbie had not been outside more than twice—once to collect strawberries and blueberries with Ithrot, who had promised only to make him eat them as garnish on a chocolate cake, and once with Glanni to pelt the neighbor's pond with stones and acorns until the frogs croaked all night. At least they had thrown stones until Ithrot came out to scold them and drag them back inside before the neighbors spotted them in the tree branches.

So he wasn't startled or nervous about the swampy marsh that might have worried other fey folk. Most seelie fairies, creatures of light that didn't care much for mischief, dwelt not in bogs or moors but rather in bright forests and grassy hillsides. They kept clear of the dark stone path that dipped in and out of black waters, past thorn bushes and scraggly trees. Seelie fairies had nothing to do with gray skies and pale suns.

And yet the queen's gold and crystal carriage rolled along the marsh path, drawn by six white stags whose antlers had been dressed with bells and flowers. Other fairies rode behind in less fancy carriages, silver and brass, on horses and in palanquins, all of them grimacing at the mist and mud.

The royal carriage came to the front of their tree. Glanni and Iþrottaalfurinn both knelt, and after a moment of hesitation, Robbie sank down with them, shying away from the disdain in the court fairies' eyes.

The carriage door opened, and Stephania stepped down the little steps and onto the driest stone. She was half a head taller than Robbie remembered, and her braided hair reached past her shoulders, and he realized she must have endured awful growing pains as her body caught up with time. Her dress seemed too simple to be that of a queen's, just a longer version of her usual skirt, her seams embedded with tiny crystals and golden thread. But on her head she wore the bright crown with polished amethysts and pearls, and she ran toward them before her ministers had even dismounted.

"Robbie!"

Royalty and crowd be damned, he couldn't not respond, catching her in a hug and sweeping her up into the air.

"Let me get a look at you now," they said over each other, smiling as they stumbled over their words, studying the changes in each other.

"Your hair looks much better," she said. "And your clothes are wonderful...did you spin them yourself?"

"Glanni helped," Robbie said, nodding. "Did you—?"

He stopped. Stephania, her smile turning devious, stepped aside as Sportacus appeared at the carriage door.

"Sorry I kept him from you for so long," she said. "I know he promised to come visit sooner, but I needed him at court."

"That's...okay..." Robbie let her slip out of his hands, slowly standing as Sportacus approached.

The blue and white heroic outfit had been changed for white deer-skin armor, highlighted by blueish silver plates woven into the leather for strength. The same crystal lay embedded in his chest piece, and his floppy hat had been traded in for a leather cap tilted to one side, no longer trying to hide his elven ears.

"Robbie," Sportacus said, holding out one hand. "You look—you look amazing."

"Oh, uh..." Robbie knew he was flushing red, and he somehow managed to take Sportacus' hand. The elf drew him into a strong embrace, and Robbie felt some of his worry melt.

"Are you captain of the guard?" he asked, only half serious.

"He is now," Stephania said. "That's also part of why I came to talk to you."

She smoothed back the stray wisps of hair that had escaped her braid, and they magically slipped back into place.

"Glanni Glaepur and Iþrottaalfurinn," she started. "Please rise. I want to thank you for the kindness shown to me when I tumbled into your kitchen. I know you were preparing to receive us, but if Besarwyn had won, she could have easily reached through to grab you. Such a risk should be rewarded."

"Oh, well," Glanni laughed, shaking his head as if it were nothing. "We just wanted all of you home, safe and sound..."

His voice trailed off as a servant brought forth a little jewel-encrusted box which, when opened, positively dripped with tiny, perfect pearls. Iþrottaalfurinn put his hand on Glanni's shoulder to keep him from lunging, forcing a polite bow out of him instead.

With the gift given, Stephania returned to business. She swept her hand back at the ministers and riders behind her, the assemblage of the court riding with her as entourage and security.

"No one saw me being kidnapped," she said, "and I don't remember it at all. So I must have been asleep, and Besyrwan must have stolen me from my bed. I've had Sportacus guarding my room ever since, but he can't do that forever. I need someone who can build something better."

She faced him again. "I need a Royal Engineer, Robbie, and I want you to take the job."

Standing straight, Robbie felt chills, felt the stares—no, the disdain of the court behind her. All the fey looked over long noses and ruffles of petals and leaves, their summer finery trimmed in lace as delicate as dew. Their magnificent wings, monarch and swallowtail and mourning cloak and fritalaries, flared out in bright display. And there was Robbie, dressed in little more than homespun—worse, spun of his own thread. Behind him, Glanni had reached over and taken Ithrot's hand, holding tight, bearing up under the court's gaze, tucking his plain dragonfly wings tight behind his back.

Robbie swallowed once, about to ask Stephania if she was sure she wanted an unseelie fairy in her court. When he looked at her, however, he saw the same smile that she'd given him when he had only whispered about the boardwalk. Once again, she trusted him to be discreet.

So what if his clothing was homespun? It was still fine silk. And so what if he was unseelie? He was the only one here who had helped save the queen, aside from Sportacus of course.

"Will there be tap dancing involved?" he asked with a wink.

She laughed. "You know, that was exactly what I was thinking."

"I humbly accept," Robbie said, "my queen's gracious offer."

After that came a blur—another hug with Glanni and a promise to visit him often and write oftener, Sportacus briefly speaking with Iþrottaalfurinn, then bundling up into Stephania's carriage and the ride back to the palace. The conversation made the ride pass by even faster. No, Robbie had nothing to bring with him—everything he remembered owning was back in Besyrwan's cave. Of course he would like to hear what a Royal Engineer would do—and would he mind sitting closer to Sportacus so he could see the palace blueprints more easily?

Sure, Robbie said with a shy smile. He wouldn't mind sitting close to Sportacus at all.

They arrived at a palace of crystal and gold, its walls covered in climbing roses, bright pink and orange, with the lawns dappled in clover and wild flowers, neat streams and trees kept trimmed. It was utterly unlike the dark wilds of his cousin's home or even of his Lazytown lair, and as they walked through the palace—marveling at his reflection in the polished marble floors—Robbie wondered if he could tame his webs to the patterns the seelie court seemed to like.

"I'll leave you to settle into your chambers," Stephania said, halting at a pair of doors. "Court will convene in the evening so you may be presented, so be ready."

"Wait," Robbie said, turning to motion at the rooms around them. "Which one of these is mine?"

"Silly," she said, "they're all yours. There's the main room, a bath, a balcony, the bedroom and the study. This is just the main entrance to this part of the east wing. Let the cooks know if you want breakfast or lunch. Dinner is always in the banquet hall."

"I...oh...wow."

He didn't hear Stephania leave. Not sure what to look at first, he went to the double french doors and opened them wide, taking in the scent of roses, the sight of fairy ladies and lords walking the lawns, and beyond them, a sprawling town nestled in the branches and roots of colossal trees.

"Wow..."

"Yeah, you don't really get used to it."

Robbie spun, eyes wide.

"Sorry, sorry," Sportacus said, hands up as if to calm him. "I just...I didn't know if we'd get to talk again soon enough, and...well. There are other fairies already talking, and I didn't want to lose my chance."

"Your chance?" Robbie asked. "Aren't you going to stay here? Or—or do the elves want you somewhere else?"

"Oh, elves aren't like fairies," Sportacus said. "I don't have a queen I have to obey. I can come and go as I please, and right now, I want to help Stephania. And, um, you."

Robbie smiled. "You already have. This is... I can sleep. I can think—do you know how hard it was to think? I felt like I was in slow motion until I got used to that and it felt normal. And I look like myself for the first time in years."

Sportacus came closer, joining him at the balcony, leaning on the frame next to Robbie.

"Yes, you are looking quite well," he said, softer now. "You're a...spider fae?"

Robbie blushed. Worse, he knew he was blushing and put a hand in front of his face.

"Argh, I'm sorry," Sportacus said, wincing as he stepped onto a sensitive minefield. "I didn't mean to...is that something no one brings up? I asked for a tutor, but she's not really very helpful with the etiquette."

"You don't..." Robbie frowned. "You don't think it's creepy?"

"What?" Sportacus asked. "That you're a spider? No...I mean, you're not really a huge black widow or...well, I guess maybe you are? But I just don't see you as that."

"Not a black widow," Robbie chuckled. "Oily things. Just a plain garden spider. I try not to show off anything extra, like my cousin shows off his wings."

He sighed, rubbing one arm. "Not like I remembered what I was before, of course. I mean back when I was. Um."

"I know what you mean," Sportacus said. "So other fairies have butterfly wings and moth wings. Does that mean you've got fangs and eight legs?"

"Six arms," Robbie said, folding tight his visible two. "It's the eyes and the fangs that freaks everyone out, though. I—I don't think I'm going to have much company while I'm here."

"Oh, but—" Sportacus started.

"I'm glad to help the queen," Robbie said quickly. "It's an honor, being one of the only unseelie fairies here. But we're just not very well liked."

"It's not like that at all!" Sportacus said.

Robbie paused. "What?"

"Maybe it was before she was kidnapped, but Stephanie, I mean Queen Steph—" Sportacus huffed and waved his hand. "Whatever, it's just between us. Stephanie doesn't care that you're unseelie so the other fairies are doing what she does. She's the queen, so they want to get in good with her, so even if they don't really agree, a lot of them are going to be nice."

"Heh." Robbie's lips quirked. "I don't know who's tutoring you, but she really isn't doing a good job. Fairies don't trust unseelie. We're not pretty enough. We don't follow rules that well. We're..."

It was hard to say. He hadn't been ashamed of it before, and he wasn't really ashamed of it now. It was just harder to admit when there was a real world and society around him and not just a few goblin kids.

"We're villains," he said softly.

"Robbie—"

"Talk to your brother," he insisted. "You should have seen him trying to keep Glanni out of trouble."

"Believe me, I know," Sportacus said, laughing helplessly at his brother. "Ithrot writes me letters all the time about the stupid things your cousin does."

Sportacus reached out and gathered Robbie's hands in his.

"He also tells me how much fun he has, and how Glanni is so unpredictable that Ithrot never gets bored. And how much Glanni cares about him, and about you, and..."

Staring at Robbie's hands, Sportacus turned them over, rubbing small circles in his palms.

"You get to show the entire court the amazing things you can do," he said. "And everyone is going to want to—they're already talking about..."

His voice trailed off. After a moment, when Robbie didn't react, Sportacus looked up and took a long, deep breath.

"I know this is sudden, but I knew if I didn't ask now, someone else was going to beat me to it. And I couldn't risk that, not after everything. Not..." He swallowed once.

"Robbie...would you allow me to...to formally court you?"

Robbie's eyes widened. But more than that—a second pair of eyes opened up beside the first, and then a smaller pair beside those. Robbie caught himself before the last pair could open, and he turned away and put his hands over his face.

"I'm sorry!" he cried. "Sorry, sorry, sorry—I can usually—oh god, sorry, I didn't..."

"Wha—? No, don't be sorry!"

Sportacus put his arms around him, turning him around. When Robbie refused to move his hands, Sportacus guided him to the windowseat and made him sit, holding either side of his head, thumbs running along the back of his hands.

"I didn't—" Robbie said, refusing to look up. "They usually stay closed—"

"Is it because you think they're scary? " Sportacus asked, sitting next to him. "They're not."

"They're extra eyes on my face," Robbie grumbled, peeking at him between his fingers. "Of course they're freaky."

"They're just eyes," Sportacus said, rolling his. "Honestly, you act like you're dripping slime or stretching out like a goblin."

"You haven't seen my fangs," Robbie muttered.

"Do they drip slime?"

"...no," Robbie said.

"Poison?"

"It's venom if it's from an animal," Robbie said, then gave a sullen answer. "No. I'm not venomous."

"Then what's the matter?" Sportacus' smile grew infuriatingly wide. "Are your arms all clawed and spiny?"

"I have six of them," Robbie said. "Isn't that enough?"

Sportacus succeeded in bringing Robbie's hands down into his lap, and he refused to let go, even when Robbie gave little tugs now and then to see if Sportacus has stopped holding firm.

"You've never seen other elves, have you?" Sportacus asked.

"I've seen your brother," Robbie said.

"Yes, I know, hideous," Sportacus smiled. "I'm the handsome one. But we're not the only kind of elf. There are some of us that are only half my size, and they have big floppy ears and eyes that bug out."

Robbie chuckled despite himself. "That's so sad...you're already kind of short."

"Hey!" Sportacus said. "Am not! Fairies are just too tall. And you don't have the proper chin anymore, either."

"Oh, don't remind me," Robbie said. "I looked ridiculous."

"You looked closer to an elf," Sportacus said. "Even if it was a bit small."

Robbie chuckled again, easier this time. "You're sure? It doesn't creep you out?"

"The only thing creepy was when I saw one of those prissy butterfly fairies when she thought no one was looking," Sportacus said. "I'd forgotten butterflies have those long proboscis snouts."

Snorting with laughter, Robbie leaned against Sportacus, bowing so that he rested his cheek against the elf's hair.

"I guess...I guess I can let you court me," Robbie said in a small voice. "At least until you realize what a mistake this is."


	3. Courted

**Part 3**

Assembled in the throne room, high lords and ladies of the fairy court stood in their cliques, sipping honey and wine between low murmurs. Their wings spread out in full display—rich jewel tones in crushed velvet, the glimmering iridescence of gems and lace decorating the edges, matching the long gowns and suits of the latest fashion.

And instead of mingling, Robbie, in dark purple and gold trim, hid in the shadow of Stephania's throne. There was plenty of room to hide. Carved out of a opalescent shell, the throne curved up like a fan twice as tall as any fairy in the room, and someone had placed a lone bench behind it, nestled between two sprays of willow branches in vases. Just large enough to shield someone from view, it was clearly designed for extra royal soldiers in case of a coup. For now, though, it held Robbie as he cradled his wine, not having taken a sip, and studied the pattern on the tiles.

He hadn't even been introduced to the court and already they had stared and stared. His clothes were as fine as any of theirs and he didn't stand out if he kept all of his eyes shut, but they knew he wasn't one of them. In birth, in power, in type, he was simply outclassed. So he sat in the shadows like a good spider, contemplating how to build his web.

"There you are," Sportacus said, coming around the vase. "I thought I'd find you somewhere dark and secluded."

"Spiders like dark, small spaces," Robbie muttered.

"Nervous?"

Robbie scowled, but he scooted over so Sportacus could sit beside him.

"Oh, not at all," he said. "I'm just about to be shown off in front of the entire seelie court and commanded to do the impossible."

"'The impossible'?"

"Making this whole palace safe," Robbie said, motioning vaguely at the wall. "Have you seen all the windows? All the doors? The huge lawns? I have to find a way to keep goblins out of all of that."

Sportacus took his wine and began drinking for him. "So have you thought of how to do it?"

"The queen's chambers have to be first," Robbie said with a decisive nod. "I already wove a few webs over her windows and balconies. You can't tell from the view, I think—not that I've been in the queen's chambers—but there's a basic lattice around her windows like a cage. It should hold up pretty well until I have time to spin something more complex."

"Uh-huh," Sportacus said. "And what else?"

"I have an idea for the whole grounds," Robbie said. He took Sportacus' hand and started sketching along his palm, treating his fingers like the different wings of the palace. "See, the throne room is in the middle, so it becomes the center of a funnel web. Then you layer the different defenses. You need an alarm system of threads, then a web of trap threads to catch anyone who tries to break through walls or hedges, and then a whole dome of gossamer..."

His voice trailed off as he realized Sportacus was staring into his eyes. Robbie put his hand down and sat straight again.

"Are you even listening?" he muttered.

"A dome would be safer," Sportacus said, "but you'd probably catch a lot of fairies flying overhead. Of course, considering that crowd, maybe that's for the best."

Robbie glanced sideways at him, a pleased smile forcing its way out.

"Maybe...maybe I could get roses to grow on it, so no one would fly through it by accident," Robbie said.

Sportacus slid his hand back under Robbie's, rubbing circles on his palm.

"That's not what's really bothering you, Mr. Royal Engineer." Sportacus wasn't surprised when Robbie turned away. "You'll be fine. I'll be here the whole time, and you Stephania believes in you."

The sigh Robbie heaved said that didn't exactly help.

A blare of horns announced the start of the court proper. Sportacus tossed back the rest of the wine and put the glass on the floor, then stood and offered his hand.

"Ready?"

"No," Robbie whined, but he took his hand anyway, then found himself drawn up flush against Sportacus.

"By the way," Sportacus whispered in his ear. "You should try the wine sometimes. A little red wine now and then is very good for you."

"It's not...um...very sweet," Robbie said.

"You sure?"

The kiss that followed tasted of wine and apples, and Robbie brought his hands up on the elf's shoulders, felt the elf likewise hold him close.

A second blare of horns announced the queen's approach, forcing them apart.

"Sweet enough?" Sportacus asked, pulling him forward.

"I..."

Stopping himself before he could fumble any more, Robbie followed him out from behind the throne, taking their positions just to the left.

"Her royal majesty, mistress of the night marshes, ruler of the summer lands, Queen Stephania the IV."

Robbie's head lifted. Mistress of the marshes? If she was willing to call herself that, it meant that she was openly claiming rule over the unseelie fairies. The seelie court had always assumed that power but never wanted to admit anything to do with the darker fey. Perhaps Sportacus was right that things were changing.

In a sweeping gown with all the shades of pink sunset, Stephania came in, flanked by her ladies in waiting, and took her seat.

"Before we begin," she said, "I want to thank my ministers of the east and west for their diligence in the Montmarte valley affair. The kobold influx has been halted and the silver mining is back on schedule."

The two men, fairies derived from grasshoppers if their tall antennae were any clue, bowed once. After the light applause, she continued.

"I also wish to thank the delegation from Aloisus Creek, for without their swift message and the brave fighting of their town guard, we would not have heard about the sluagh attack that would have doomed their town and left our northern borders open to invasion."

Again, light applause, which made the three peasant fairies in the center blush and look askance. Dressed only in sewn leaves and moth wings, they stood out among the palace finery.

"Finally," Stephania said, "tonight I introduce to you the newest member of my royal cabinet. You are all aware of the time I spent in the lair of Besyrwan, the goblin brood queen, kidnapped from my own bed."

Robbie watched every fairy now turn their head and pretend to find bits of the throne room suddenly fascinating. The floor was particularly enthralling.

"And I commend each and every one of you," Stephania said, her voice hardening to steel, "for putting the thought of the duties of the crown ahead of my own life, for assuming my death so that things could return to normal here, as if I never happened. Truly, your loyalty to our land is to be commended."

Oh. Robbie schooled his face to stay neutral, but sweet triumph filled his heart. No wonder Stephania didn't trust her seelie court and had turned to an elf and an unseelie for protection. The fairies before him all blushed and knew to keep their mouths shut.

"So in the interest of securing this palace properly, for protection against the darker forces that clearly have an interest in the royal personage, I have created a new position." She motioned to the unseelie at her side. "I name Roban Rotianan my first Royal Engineer...hm, and consort to the Captain of the Guard, I see."

Robbie startled that she somehow knew that, but the look between her and Sportacus was clear. He straightened his vest needlessly. Of course she knew. Of course Sportacus had told her. But only her. The gasps and mutters of the crowd, the way the prim and proper lords and ladies glared at Sportacus from behind laced fans, made him wonder if the captain of the guard would have to protect him, too.

"...ah, your highness—" one of the ministers said, then winced when she shot him a look. "Forgive me, your majesty. Rotianan? Isn't that an...unseelie name?"

"A spider, by the look of him," said another official, his top hat canting to one side as he stared.

"Do I not rule over the dark as well as the light?" Stephania demanded.

"Of course, your majesty," the minister said. "But he stands here before us with a glamour. Mustn't all introductions be conducted without a glamour?"

"Was yours?" Stephania said.

"I am not unseelie," the minister said, drawing himself up. "I am a Coccinellidae. This...ordinary garden spider could be a danger himself. I have seen spiders in the front lines of the goblin wars—terrifying sight, really, all fangs and legs racing faster than we can fly."

"Tell me, minister of the north," Stephania said, "on whose side did those spiders fight?"

He frowned, and his red shells lifted, unable to contain the faint humming inside. "On ours, your majesty."

"But you question his loyalty," she said.

"Your majesty," said the minister of south, stepping forward. "We understand that this...garden spider was instrumental in saving your life. But...there is a reason we do not mix. We do not doubt his loyalty, but rather his...control."

At that, she laughed. "I suppose a few cakes might be stolen out of the royal kitchens, but..."

Her laugh faded when she saw their frowns deepen, the mistrust in their eyes.

"You really are afraid of a garden spider," she said, wondering at it. "When was the last time a spider unseelie ate a seelie?"

But that wasn't the point, and she could feel it. Asking a butterfly to trust a spider might have been a fool's errand, even if she knew the spider in question.

"Rest assured," she sighed, "my need is greater than your fears. Still...Robbie, would you show them what you can do with your thread?"

The weight of the court's gaze fell on him, and Robbie almost bolted behind her throne again. He looked up at her with wide eyes, pleading for her to let him run.

"I know you've been working on my windows," she said. "Something like that. You know, like a cat's cradle."

She gave a nod that was supposed to be authoritative and reassuring, but it reminded him of nothing so much as a child nodding for him to continue a story. Her hair was still radiant, her dress and wings glimmering like diamonds, but her feet swung high off the floor and her small body was dwarfed by the colossal throne. Queen, yes, but still a child, and the court could sense that weakness. And to Robbie, still the pink girl who liked to dance.

"Like cat's cradle," he repeated. "I...I think I can do that."

He closed his eyes. If he had to look, the crowd would make him freeze. And he would see Sportacus as he realized that courting Robbie was a mistake, and he didn't want to see that.

He brought his hands together and spun silk threads between his fingertips. Then his glamour dropped, and another pair of his hands reached in, one above and one below, pulling the threads like a cross. Then a third pair of hands gathered enough to draw out like a proper web. Anchored by the cross, he began to arrange the silk in a pattern so fine they could barely see it, catching only the glimmer of light off the edges.

"This is the type I placed over your majesty's balcony," he said. "It's a little smaller, but it will keep you safe until I can spin something large enough to include the palace."

Murmurs increased as they heard that his web would wrap around them all. The minister of the north came closer, staring doubtfully at the web.

"Your majesty, I must protest," he said. "This is fraud. These webs are too fine to hold anything in check."

Robbie could have pushed his silk in the man's face and wrapped him up right then, but he didn't think that would help the queen.

"It's strong enough," Robbie said. "Just try it."

The minister huffed, then waved one of the guards at the door to come forward. Then the minister drew the guard's sword and hefted it high over his head. The court collectively gasped, and Stephania put her hand out in shock, and even Sportacus moved too slow as the sword dropped down toward Robbie's chest.

The blade stopped fast against the web. Robbie turned a pair of his hands, forcing the sword around and out of the minister's hands, twisting the blade so that the hilt flipped toward Sportacus, who caught it in one hand.

"That is...well," the minister blustered, "strong indeed."

Robbie allowed himself a small smile.

"A spider's trick," the minister added. "Is all that it can do catch and trap?"

Stung, Robbie stumbled over the thoughts jumbling in his head. Adhesive, repair kit, scaffolding—his silk wasn't just vital to creating engines and machinery, but its patterns and complexities were what gave him his ideas in the first place. Everything he could have said to justify himself faltered in the minister's face.

Then Sportacus put his hand on Robbie's back and leaned forward with a smug smile.

"It can do a lot of things," he said in a whisper that carried across the room. "But unless you're courting him, some of those things are not for outside the bedroom."

The mood pivoted. The lords and laughed, and the minister turned red and allowed a small laugh as well, waving away his objections and wishing the two of them the best, then commending the queen on her selection of both royal engineer and captain of the guard. If he was sincere or just saving face, Robbie couldn't tell. He was too close to tears, and he gathered up his web and made his arms vanish once again.

He didn't hear the queen dismissing the court and didn't see everyone leave. Stephania herself remained to talk to her ministers and the delegation from Aloisus Creek, and Sportacus was leading Robbie out through the side doors that went directly to the east wing. They went up stairs, down a hallway, and then around a corner to finally came to the familiar doors of his own chambers.

Flames lit in golden candelabras, warming the room as the sun glimmered almost below the horizon, but the finery was lost on Robbie as he sank down on the long couch, covering his face with a pillow.

"Well," Sportacus said, locking the doors. "The minister of the north was in rare form tonight."

"I don't like the court," Robbie sniffled, turning on his back. "I don't want to do that again ever."

"You won't." Sportacus sat on the floor beside him. "I promise. There might be a few times when you have to present something officially, but never like that again."

"...find me his windows," Robbie said as he lowered the pillow just enough to see over the top. "I want to nail them shut."

"I think I can manage that," Sportacus chuckled.

"And then light a fire at his door so he can't get out."

"That we may have a problem with."

Robbie sighed explosively, draping himself over the arm of the couch. When he felt Sportacus rubbing his back, he glared sideways at him.

"And why are you still here? You saw me with all my arms out."

"Oh yes," Sportacus nodded. "That was something, all right. Is your cousin a spider, too?"

"Glanni? No, he's a dragonfly." Robbie stretched, shifting so that Sportacus could reach his other shoulder. "His fangs are bigger than mine."

"Then I can't wait to write to Ithrot," Sportacus said, "and let him know I definitely got the better deal."

A moment passed before Robbie parsed that out.

"Really?"

"You have six hands," Sportacus said. "I can't wait to try them out."

This time Robbie flushed completely red, but he didn't argue.


End file.
